What Now?
1059 Words
Chapter 1
July 2022
The man next to her, just roused from sleep, inquired about her unresponsive phone, noticing its lit screen due to a call.
"Let it be, don't mind it. That's work, and it's my day off. I don't need to answer," Primrose retorted, slightly irritated, as she rose from the bed.
But it wasn't work—it was another guy she had a fling with a few weeks ago, persistently bugging her for a date despite her clear stance against dating.
The previous night had been a whirlwind, celebrating her friend's birthday at an exclusive bar. Hence, she woke up beside a city mayor's son, wrapped in his embrace.
"Are you leaving already?" the man asked, observing Prim systematically donning the clothes she had found neatly folded on the couch.
"Did you fold my clothes?" the guy nodded. Primrose smiled and gave him a peck on the lips.
"You know, that's thoughtful and sweet," she remarked while putting on her blazer.
"Nothing happened between us. We just literally slept together."
"I know…" Prim replied. She knew because if anything had happened, she'd probably be fully naked. But she wasn't—she was fully clothed, albeit in her undies.
After she finished dressing and donned her shoes, she gathered her belongings and checked her phone, the man observing her every move.
"How did we end up here?" Prim referred to the guy's condo.
"You were really drunk—probably wasted. Other guys were eyeing you like you were meat, and they looked starved. I just—"
"Thanks."
"Repay me with a meal."
"I'll send you food to the condo. Let me know what you want—"
"No, no, no. What I meant was by having a meal with me," he clarified, furrowing Prim's brow.
She had never taken someone she met at a bar to lunch; she deemed it appropriate only with friends or potential dates.
"I don’t date. I never date guys."
"Let’s not date then. Just lunch."
"You’re not a friend either."
"How can I be one?"
Prim paused briefly. No one had ever folded her clothes before, so seeing them neatly arranged touched her. Instead of refusing, she decided to give this guy a chance to be her friend.
"Well, I can feel that you’re a good person, so fine. Just one lunch, and not today because I need to go somewhere," she checked the time—it was almost 1 PM.
The man swiftly went to the kitchen, opened her fridge, and handed Prim overnight oats.
"Here. Eat this on your way somewhere. I called for your car, so it’s in the condo's parking lot. I’ll just take you there."
"Is this poisoned?" she joked.
"Do I look like I’d poison someone?" Prim shook her head and chuckled as she took the overnight oats from the man's hand.
"I’m Ian Letran, in case you didn’t know."
"Ian, huh…" Prim repeated as they walked towards Ian's parking area.
Prim eased herself into the driver's seat, the familiar comfort of her car embracing her as she set off toward her condo, a short distance away. The journey was accompanied by the rhythmic hum of the engine, a steady companion in her daily routines.
Glancing at the sweating glass container of overnight oats nestled in the cup holder, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was an unexpected reaction, an almost fond amusement at the sight of the condensation trickling down the sides. For a fleeting moment, she found solace in the simplicity of this mundane detail, a brief respite from the weight of her thoughts.
The smile, however, felt alien on her face, a foreign expression that didn't quite align with her usual demeanor. It was an anomaly in her typically composed visage, and the realization jolted her back to her usual serious countenance.
In a sudden self-awareness, she chided herself inwardly, almost scolding her own momentary lapse of seriousness. It wasn't characteristic of her to find amusement in something as trivial as a sweating glass container. To jolt herself out of this uncharacteristic display of sentimentality, she delivered a light, swift slap to her cheek, a physical reminder to revert to her usual pragmatic self.
She quickly bathed and FaceTimed her manager while lying on her bed. They needed to discuss her upcoming role.
"I know you can do this role effortlessly, Prim. You gotta trust yourself more," her manager encouraged when Prim hesitated to accept the role, considering it vastly different from her previous ones.
Her usual roles portrayed her as a snobby, wealthy character, always a supporting actress. Her facial features didn’t quite match the aura of kindness. She basically had a resting b***h face.
"Ate Ji, I’ll try, but I just don’t think I’ll suit this role. I think someone out there is more deserving than me—"
"Oh, Prim. I've told you. I've been insisting to the producers and even directors that you don’t want to take it because of your full schedule, but they kept insisting."
"It’s my first time, Ate Ji. I’m not that confident yet."
"Do it scared. I’m telling you, you can do this."
Prim had no choice but to agree with her manager. The contract signing was tomorrow, and shooting would commence next month.
She lay on her bed, checking her unread messages. There were many from Miguel, her admirer since college, informing her of his return to the Philippines after migrating to the US post-graduation.
She replied to Miguel since they had been friends since their first year in college; they shared numerous memories. Perhaps, if Miguel hadn't moved away, Prim might have given him a chance, and they could have had a romantic relationship.
To Miguel Eros: Hello, Migs. It’s been years, hasn’t it? I’m here, in my condo. We can spend time together sometime, sure. I'm just not sure when I'm free, hehe!
In seconds, Miguel read the message.
From Miguel Eros: Glad you did not change your phone number. See you soon!
Prim didn't reply further and went straight to sleep. Her life revolved around work, sleep, partying, and waking up next to a handsome, wealthy, and fragrant man.
As she was about to close her eyes, a follow request popped up on her screen—from none other than Ian Letran.
What now indeed?
- Writer
